But over time, confidence had hardened into arrogance.
Cleary disliked being questioned.
He sometimes interpreted calm requests for explanations as disrespect.
And he had developed a habit of trusting his instincts even when the available evidence suggested otherwise.
When he saw the silver pickup with Illinois plates, he became suspicious.
The driver was unfamiliar.
The truck was carrying several boxes.
And the sheriff believed the vehicle might be connected to recent theft reports.
He followed Isaiah for several minutes.
Then activated his lights.
When he approached the driver’s window, Isaiah greeted him politely.
“Good afternoon, Sheriff.”
“License and registration.”
Isaiah complied.
Cleary examined the documents.
“Where are you coming from?”
“Illinois.”
“Where are you going?”
“Coopersville.”
“What for?”
“Visiting family.”
Cleary looked toward the truck bed.
“What’s in those boxes?”
“Personal belongings.”
The sheriff frowned.
“What kind?”
“Books, clothing, and some things from my military retirement.”
Cleary looked back at him.
“Military?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What branch?”
“Army.”
“What rank?”
“Command sergeant major.”
Cleary laughed.
“That’s a pretty impressive claim.”
Isaiah remained calm.
“It’s my retirement rank.”
Cleary extended his hand.
“Show me something that proves it.”
Isaiah retrieved the retirement identification card from his wallet.
He offered it through the window.
Cleary examined it.
Then his expression hardened.
“This doesn’t look right.”
Isaiah frowned.
“What seems wrong?”
The sheriff held the card closer.
“Looks fake.”
“It’s legitimate.”
